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Episode 1 · General · 18+ private alpha
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About this story
Misty Hollow is the kind of town where the ice sculpture contest is a serious matter, the gossip circulates faster than the paper prints it, and the veterinary clinic is staffed by two ponies who would each prefer the other resign.
Tabitha Fershund is an heiress determined to live as a commoner — she's bad at it, she won't stop, and her magic is stronger than anything a unicorn should be able to do. Dr. Thomas Fairfax left the city for reasons he won't discuss and lost his magic for reasons he doesn't understand. He came here to be no one in particular. It isn't working.
Around them: a Bigfoot healer, an animal control officer with a flexible reading of protocol, a priest who'll perform an exorcism if pressed, a fan writing gore-fic about Tabby, and an organization that has been arranging the town's family trees since before the town existed.
The romance takes a while. The town does not wait.
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These warnings apply to the story as a whole.
The newly constructed Misty Hollow Veterinary Clinic looked absurdly professional--smooth white walls, a proper sign with professional lettering, and a door that didn't hang loose on its hinges. Tabby pushed through and nearly collided with a coffee station. Tiny didn't have a coffee station. This was fancy.
"You're late," Strawberry said without looking up from her computer.
"Just chill." Tabby dropped into one of the waiting room chairs. "There was a situation with brownies."
"There's always a situation with something." Strawberry finally looked up at her best friend, taking in the slightly manic energy radiating off her. "You ready for this?"
Tabby shook her head vigorously. "No."
"Good. Honesty is refreshing." Strawberry's expression softened. "You'll do great. Just... try not to mention demons in the first five minutes?"
“Right, right. He wouldn’t understand.” Tabby rolled her eyes. “You said he’s an easterner."
“Be that as it may,” Strawberry said, picking up the phone, “he's waiting for you."
Tabby stood and immediately adjusted her glasses. "What's he like? Besides, you know, the eastern thing?"
"Professional. Smart. Maybe a little bit uptight." Strawberry looked at her significantly. "He’s also on the other side of that door waiting, so maybe we should—"
"Right. Yes."
Strawberry spoke into the phone: "Tabby is here for the interview."
The response crackled through: "Send her in."
Tabby took a breath. Strawberry gave her an encouraging nod. "Go make me look good for recommending you."
“That’s setting the bar very high,” Tabby said with a huff, but she squared her shoulders and headed for the office door.
Dr. Thomas Fairfax, a white unicorn stallion with walnut brown mane and tail, checked the clock on the wall as he absentmindedly stroked the purring calico kitten he was holding. Sophie had that endearing quality of being the runt of the litter. Thomas's mother would have nonsensically called her a mere kitten of a kitten, a phrase of unknown origin.
Sophie had been in Thomas's care for the past week, since the local animal shelter had sent her over for special care. She was on her way to recovery now, and had taken up residence in Thomas's office. The shelter would pick her up tomorrow morning, though the thought had crossed his mind that he should adopt her himself.
Sophie yawned and stretched.
This little furball was a good reminder of why Thomas had been drawn to the field of veterinary medicine in the first place. The naive idealism he had possessed as a youth had since been clouded by the murky waters of adult responsibilities... and relationships. Animals were comfortable, loyal, and safe, with considerably less drama than ponies.
Thomas's recent move had been an adjustment, from the bustling metropolis of New Pony to here, Misty Hollow, a town on the largely rural western coast of the continent. Maybe it had been a bit impetuous and out-of-character for him to jump at this opportunity like he had—but he had needed a change from fast-paced life in the city.
The clinic was in its soft opening phase. A media blitz, courtesy of his benefactors, would begin next week, and the grand opening the following Monday. For the moment, Thomas was just dealing with a hoof-full of walk-ins as he finalized some business-related loose ends... like hiring an assistant.
If only he could find one he was happy with. The candidates so far were mostly recent graduates from the Hayton college (Hayton being the nearest large city, by local standards). The mares were pretty, charming, complimentary, and entirely too easy to flirt with—Thomas had gone down that path too many times as it was. The male candidates were insufferably self-assured; they reminded him of himself at that age, and it grated on his nerves.
To be honest, Thomas wasn't sure what he was looking for, but it had not been anyone he'd talked to yet.
His phone rang.
"Tabby is here for the interview," Strawberry relayed.
"Send her in," Thomas said, setting Sophie gently on her cushion.
This was the last interview lined-up—an unorthodox candidate, but highly recommended by Strawberry. She had tried to explain how Tabby's last job had been assisting a hermit in the woods, providing medical care to wood sprites, or some-such nonsense. It sounded ridiculous, but Strawberry had pleaded her friend's case eloquently. And Thomas was looking for something different, wasn't he?
Sophie settled into a loaf position, watching the door with mild interest.
The doorknob turned, the door opened a crack, and a pink unicorn peered in cautiously.
"Come in, have a seat," Thomas invited, and studied her surreptitiously as she crept into the room. Her appearance was eclectic—wisps of bright red hair escaped from her coiffure; there was something brown smeared on her cheek; and bold rectangular frame glasses sat crooked on her nose.
This was definitely not the kind of put-together career mare Thomas usually kept company with. Workplace romance was something he had fervently pledged to avoid as he made this new start in life. Best to avoid temptation... and that worked in her favor.
"Sorry I'm late," she said, stopping at the desk to slide a paper across to him before taking her seat in the available chair. She pushed her glasses up as she spoke, then immediately had to push them up again. "I just got into a bit of a situation in my kitchen and I needed to stick around long enough to make sure I hadn't summoned a demon again. I mean, it was just brownies this time; it's not like it was a sauce; but since the last incident..." She shook her head vehemently.
Thomas blinked rapidly, not really prepared with a response to that outlandish excuse. "Does that happen often?" he asked at long last.
"Well, you know, I only attempt brownies once or twice a year," she said demurely.
"I meant," he said, raising an eyebrow, "summoning a demon."
"Oh!" She stopped to consider, tilting her head. "Well, it doesn't happen as often as brownies," she said at length.
"I see," Thomas murmured, skimming the paper she'd given him. He paused. Looked up. "Um... this is a letter to Chief Kekithar apologizing for unprofessional conduct."
"Oops! Sorry, wrong one." She appeared unphased at the slip-up, and pulled another sheet from a folder she had at hoof.
This paper looked more in the style of a resume. In this region of mononymous ponies, this mare claimed the unexpected name of Tabitha E. Fershund, as spelled out in the resume header. "So you're interviewing for the position of veterinary assistant, Ms. Fershund."
"It's Tabby. Just Tabby," she was quick to correct, pushing her glasses up again.
"You just handed me a paper saying your name is Tabitha E. Fershund," Thomas said in consternation.
"Oh. Well," Tabby conceded, "I suppose that's true." She did not elaborate, but concentrated on darting looks around the room, assiduously avoiding eye contact. She was continually nudging her glasses up on her face, as if she were unaccustomed to them.
Sophie ambled over to the newcomer and jumped up on her lap. "Awww," said Tabby appreciatively, immediately cupping her hooves around the kitten. The kitten had discerning tastes, and though all applicants had fawned over her, this was the first one that the feline had deigned to acknowledge.
"In any case..." Thomas drew his attention away from the kitten, tapping the resume with one hoof. "...the main responsibilities of the position are assisting me in exams and surgeries, caring for the animals on-site, maintaining files, ordering supplies..." He looked up. "Strawberry says you have some experience in the field, though you don't have any accreditation?"
"Yes," Tabby stated confidently without providing additional details. Sophie purred in her lap.
Thomas was silent a moment as he perused her resume. It was hard to see any kind of cohesive plan to her life history as presented on this double-sided sheet of paper. He skimmed past the scattered work experience—genetics lab for one semester, various Pony-mart positions, self-employment selling collectibles on eCove. "Your last job was assistant to.... Dr... uhh..." He squinted at the line.
"Dr. Tini'kili'knit'nik," Tabby rattled off quickly, absently stroking Sophie, "but everyone just calls him Tiny. He's a Sasquatch medicine man and he's been training me. He has a clinic in the Dark Forest and travels all around to non-pony settlements that don't have access to proper medical care."
That did sound interesting. Thomas leaned forward slightly. "You've worked with a variety of species, then."
"Oh, sure. Dakytins, Jellicles, Bushwoolies, hodags, humans, raccoons, all the usual," she said, still focused on Sophie.
"Is Dr... Tiny—"
"Just Tiny. You only use the title with his proper name," Tabby explained, glancing up briefly before returning her attention to the kitten.
"—is he licensed by the Ponyland Medical Association?" Thomas asked, though he suspected he knew the answer.
"No," she said curtly. "Not since last year's sanctions."
"So he can't legally diagnose conditions, perform surgery, or dispense medicine in this region... right?" Thomas looked at her inquiringly.
"You know the medical board certification is weighed heavily against non-equines," Tabby spat, her head snapping up. Sophie mewed softly at the sudden tension. "And there aren't enough pony doctors willing to check on the welfare of isolated tribes."
"Look, I know it's an imperfect system," Thomas admitted, raising a hoof. "I'm not looking to get anyone in trouble. But, for understanding your qualifications, I would like to hear more about his methods." He steepled his hooves on the desktop, watching her carefully.
"Well..." Tabby hesitated, then leaned forward conspiratorially. Sophie settled more comfortably in her lap. "His bread-and-butter cure is magic injections that he makes himself from sphinx mushrooms and black blood of the earth and krulototite and all that."
Thomas decided not to pursue exactly what was included in and all that. "Is that... effective?" He tried not to sound incredulous, but it was ludicrous-sounding folk medicine at best and outright poison at worst—and largely the reason behind legislation limiting the practice of non-pony medical personnel.
"Yes," Tabby said stiffly, straightening in her chair. Sophie's ears flattened slightly. "In the Sasquatch medical circle, he is highly regarded with numerous journal articles to his credit... not that those are admitted in this world." She tilted her chin up and glared at him challengingly.
"Oh... I'm not really up on Sasquatch medicine," Thomas hedged, picking up a pen and tapping it against his desk. "Why are you no longer with Tiny?"
"I still work with him. I'm just doing this interview to humor him. I told him I wouldn't get the job, but he thinks it's important for my personal development or whatever." Tabby crossed her forelegs, dislodging Sophie slightly.
"And what would Tiny say are your strengths?"
"Oh, he would say that there's no flies on me, definitely," Tabby said without hesitation. She must have noted some confusion on his face, and quickly clarified, "That's a Sasquatch expression—a compliment, really—because if you sit still, flies will settle on you, but if you're moving around a lot, they won't stay, so..."
"I see," Thomas said, allowing himself a small smile.
"He would also say that I'm the best flea picker he's ever worked with," she said with great pride. "That he meant literally... I think." Her forehead wrinkled.
"Hmm—well—that certainly is... something," Thomas acknowledged, processing that information. He set down his pen and picked up the resume again. "Let's talk about your education. I see you went to New Pony... majoring in genetics for... one semester?"
"Yes. I didn't really adapt to city life," Tabby explained, her gaze drifting back to Sophie. "But you will note that, during that semester, I worked at the molecular biology lab."
"What were your responsibilities?" he asked, interest piqued. He leaned back in his chair.
"Putting invoices in numerical order, taking cardboard to the dumpster, putting away shipments, that sort of thing. Once—" She paused for emphasis, looking directly at him. "—I assisted with defrosting the freezer."
"Interesting..." Thomas murmured. It wasn't the kind of specialized lab experience that would make her stand out. "Then you have an associate's degree from Pony Pride University, and a culinary certificate from Greener Pastures Tech, and last year you graduated with a bachelor's degree from Neoshokoro."
"Yes, in Organizational Administration," Tabby added, brightening slightly.
"Really?" Thomas' impression so far was that she had very little grasp on organization. Her resume was scattered, her appearance was chaotic, and she'd handed him the wrong paper entirely. "May I ask what you do for self-employment?" He gestured to that line on her resume.
"I sell collectibles on eCove!" she said enthusiastically. Sophie stretched in her lap, clearly content.
"Is that lucrative?" Thomas asked.
"It can be," Tabby said vaguely. Then her eyes fixed on something across the room. "Though, I must say... that's a fine-looking mid-century modern atomic starburst clock you have over there, if you are ever interested in selling..."
"It's a keepsake from my parents," Thomas said quickly, his expression softening for just a moment. "I think I'll hang on to it." He tapped his hoof on the desk, reflecting on what he had learned. Her chaotic path was so different from his well-ordered road map through life. Always precocious, he had started college at sixteen, earned his bachelor's degree in three years, then gone through veterinary school and residency at a top clinic, all with high honors.
"Ms. Fershund... Tabby..." Thomas stood and came around to the front of the desk. Sophie looked up, tracking his movement. "You're not really interested in this job, are you?" he challenged. "You would find this a very different environment from what you're used to. This is modern medicine, not magical folk cures."
"Oh, because science and magic can't possibly co-exist," she said scathingly, also standing. Sophie jumped down and sat between them, tail swishing.
"You must admit, the area of magic is overrun with quacks," he pointed out, crossing his forelegs, "and there is a distinct lack of quality research. I'm not saying it's all bad, but it is difficult to screen for safe applications."
"You've given up on magic, completely sold-out your heritage," Tabby accused harshly, stepping closer.
Of course she would notice that about him—magic users could sense that sort of thing. Thomas had come to terms with the events that had led to his losing his magic, but to be judged by this mare—well, it was uncomfortable. "There's more to life than magic," he said defensively, his jaw tightening.
"Any unicorn worth the name ought to be prepared with at least the most basic skills to act in an emergency," Tabby continued scathingly. "Especially one in the medical field."
"Most magic healing is just superficial repair and wouldn't change the balance between life and death, anyway," Thomas quickly pointed out, his voice rising slightly.
"Oh, is that all that can be done?" she said, smirking.
"There are highly-trained professionals that can perform magic surgery, yes, but there are strict sanctions governing magic healing, and it doesn't appear that you hold those credentials," Thomas said, trying to divert the focus from his own abilities... or lack thereof. He picked up her resume and gestured with it.
She hated him, didn't even want the job, and it was crazy that he was still even considering her, but... Sophie liked her, and there was just something about her that Thomas couldn't shake.
"I assume we're done here," Tabby said stiffly after a moment of silence.
"Wait," Thomas stalled her, setting down the resume. All this talk was one thing, but there was really only one way to find out if she had the right qualities. "I have an Abyssinian waiting for surgery for a luxating patella. Are you familiar with that type of operation?"
"Well—yes," Tabby said, pausing for just a moment. "It was a gytrash. Is this soft tissue alteration or just a trochleoplasty?"
"It's a grade four case that will require a block recession," Thomas said briskly. "Get prepped for surgery. You can consider it a try-out."
Sophie watched them both, then began cleaning her paw.
"The patient hadn't regained consciousness as soon as expected," Tabby was explaining details of the gytrash case, apparently bearing no grudge against Thomas despite their earlier heated words. She scrubbed her hooves methodically at the sink. "The villagers had decided to burn me and Tiny at the stake."
Thomas waited for her to continue, pulling on his own surgical gloves, but she simply hummed cheerfully, washing her hooves and putting on gloves.
"What happened?" he finally asked.
"What? Oh... well, I teleported into the woods," Tabby said absentmindedly, checking the instrument tray.
"What about Tiny?" Thomas asked, frowning as he adjusted the overhead light.
"I was working on rescuing him, of course!" Tabby bristled, beginning to get into the story. "But as I approached the area, the village mystic came out, and she was all whoosh!" She made an expansive gesture with one hoof. "And I was all, bam, take that!" This came with more expansive hoof gestures that were nonetheless not effective at conveying details. "But she put up an energy shield and the wave came back at me and I was knocked unconscious," she said complacently, returning to examining the instruments. “When I came to, Tiny was there with restorative smelling salts. He’d broken out of his bonds on his own.”
"So he saved you," Thomas observed, moving the anesthesia equipment into position.
"Yes," she said without shame. "And by then the gytrash was awake, so they were like 'okay, I guess we won't burn you' and we were like, 'cool.'"
"I'm afraid this job may be a bit tame for your liking," Thomas commented, adjusting the operating table height.
Tabby laughed. "You haven't lived here long, have you?"
Then they got down to business.
Tabby performed with aplomb, catching on quickly, carrying out orders with minimal instruction, and keeping conversation to a minimum once the procedure began. If there was one thing that rattled Thomas' composure, it was a chatty assistant. He performed the tissue incisions and bone shaping procedures, and Tabby ably handled the surgical scalpels, saws, and chisels.
But even when Tabby was serious and silent, there was a suggestion of an amused smile on her face, and it was anyone's guess what her internal observations were. Thomas was somewhat curious and a little afraid of the thoughts she kept to herself.
After the operation was complete and the feline patient was settled into a kennel, Thomas looked at the applicant thoughtfully as she hummed to herself, tucking a blanket closer around the cat. Tabby came from a very different background than the others; but she knew what she was doing, and that real-world experience was an asset.
As clean-up procedures were taken care of, Thomas said not a word about Tabby's performance, and she didn't ask. She removed her surgical cap, her red hair springing free in disarray. Afterwards, he invited her back into his office.
Sophie was on her cushion, grooming herself.
They stood face-to-face in front of his desk. "I'm offering you the job," Thomas said, getting straight to the point, and watched her face carefully.
Her eyes widened behind her glasses. "Why?" she asked bluntly.
"I think you have a lot of potential and deserve a chance," he said, trying not to sound condescending. He picked up a pen from his desk, then set it back down.
"In spite of being woefully under-qualified, you mean?" Tabby said, laughing. "You're crazy." But then, quietly, almost to herself, she added, "Or maybe I'm the crazier one for considering it."
Thomas just looked at her expectantly. Sophie stopped grooming and watched them both.
"Fine, I'll do it," Tabby said at length. "But only because I know Tiny will take me back once you come to your senses and kick me out."
"I want you here at eight o'clock tomorrow," Thomas instructed, accompanying her to the door. Sophie hopped down and followed them.
"I'll be here by eight-thirty," she countered, just before ducking outside, not giving him a chance to reply.
Thomas watched her go, shaking his head. Sophie rubbed against his leg, purring. Would she be completely unmanageable? Did he know what he was doing? Just what was he in for in the coming days?
He looked down at Sophie, who blinked up at him slowly.
"Well," he said to the kitten, "at least you approve."
Sophie meowed once, then trotted back to her cushion.
Thomas returned to his desk and sat down. The interview had not gone how he expected. Most of his carefully prepared questions had been derailed by demon brownies and gytrash surgeries and Sasquatch expressions about flies.
But she'd known exactly what a grade four luxating patella required. She'd handed him instruments before he asked for them. And there was something about the way she'd looked at that atomic starburst clock—like she understood its value beyond money.
Tomorrow would be interesting, if nothing else.
He glanced at the clock in question. 4:47 PM. The shelter would pick up Sophie in the morning, and his first official employee would arrive... at eight-thirty, apparently.
Thomas smiled despite himself.
Then he pulled Tabby's resume toward him and read it again, this time noting all the things she hadn't said.
End of Episode 1
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